Streetlight Quotes

For the violence in the dark streets, education is the best street light! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

He doesn't move.

Please, I beg him inwardly.

Please go up to bed.

It's hard enough to look at his face each day and not feel heartbreak. I can't be close to him right now. I'm afraid I'll give in and kiss him again. The way his hard body had aligned so perfectly with mine is burned in my consciousness. I'll be trying not to remember that for weeks.

I wait, and I ache.

Finally the door clicks open. I hear him exit the car. When the door slams shut, I feel it like a sledgehammer to the heart.

Don't look, I coach myself.

But my self-control isn't infinite. His fair hair glints under the streetlight as his long legs eat up the walkway in just a few paces. Seeing him walk away from me splinters something inside me. ~ Sarina Bowen

Marin, under the streetlight, dancing by herself, is singing the same song somewhere. I know. Is waiting for a car to stop, a star to fall, someone to change her life. ~ Cisneros Sandra

She looks at me as we walk under a streetlight. "You're really handsome, you know that?"
I don't know what to say. I don't think anyone uses the word handsome anymore. I feel humbled by it. Because it's old and grandmothers say it, it seems classy and real and I feel ... handsome. It makes me smile. ~ A.S. King

An oceanic expanse of pre-dawn gray white below obscures a checkered grid of Saskatchewan, a snow plain nicked by the dark, unruly lines of woody swales. One might imagine that little is to be seen from a plane at night, but above the clouds the Milky Way is a dense, blazing arch. A full moon often lights the planet freshly, and patterns of human culture, artificially lit, are striking in ways not visible in daylight. One evening I saw the distinctive glows of cities around Delhi diffused like spiral galaxies in a continuous deck of stratus clouds far below us. In Algeria and on the Asian steppes, wind-whipped pennants of gas flared. The jungle burned in incandescent spots in Malaysia and Brazil. One clear evening at 20,000 feet over Manhattan, I could see, it seemed, every streetlight halfway to the end of Long Island. A summer lightning bolt unexpectedly revealed thousands of bright dots on the ink-black veld of the northern Transvaal: sheep. ~ Barry Lopez

Poetry is the shadow cast by our streetlight imaginations. ~ Lawrence Ferlinghetti

There isn't one celebrity I've worked with who doesn't have major doubts about what impact they are having. I am glad when they question the impact, because it shows they are based firmly in the reality that peacemaking isn't the same as changing a streetlight or distributing mosquito nets. ~ John Prendergast

Sometimes I can almost see around our heads,
like gnats around a streetlight in summer,
The children we could have,
The glimmer of them. ~ Sharon Olds

One of the crazies moved into the cone of light beneath a streetlight. It was a black man, high-stepping and making jerking movements with his arms. He made a crisp turn and began moving back into the darkness. He was a trombone player in a matching band in a world somewhere else. ~ Michael Connelly

Once, she made a boy come out of his house and kiss her under the streetlight. It was her first kiss. She thinks it was probably his, too.
She never told him and she never, ever will. ~ Holly Black

The rain is colder than I expect - which is ridiculous, since it's March. My cheeks are freezing by the time we go two blocks, my hair has a sodden weight on my shoulder. My glasses are so wet I need to shove them in a pocket. I threw Mom's pullover windbreaker over my sweatshirt before leaving the house, thinking it would be waterproof, but I am so wrong.

By the time I make the final turn for the church, I wonder if I'm stupid for being out here. It's pouring so hard that a haze has formed around the streetlight, and I can barely see anything through the darkness.

My sneakers squish in the grass. I get to the spot where we sat for the last two nights.

And of course he's not there.

I sigh. Only a complete moron would go meet in the rain.

Then Texy woofs and bounces on her front paws.

I turn, and it's like I'm in a chick flick. His shadowed figure lopes across the grass.

Okay, maybe the dark and rain make it more like a horror movie than a romantic comedy, BUT STILL.

He draws to a stop in front of me. He had the sense to wear a heavy, waterproof coat over his hoodie, but the hood is soaked and rain drips down his cheeks.

"Hey," he says, his voice a little loud over the rain.

I'm blushing. I tell my cheeks to knock it off. "Hey."

"I wasn't sure you'd show up, but I didn't have a way to text you …"

"I had the same thought process. ~ Brigid Kemmerer

I know this world is far from perfect. I am not the type to mistake a streetlight for the moon. I know our wounds are deep as the Atlantic. But every ocean has a shoreline and every shoreline has a tide that is constantly returning to wake the songbirds in our hands, to wake the music in our bones, to place one fearless kiss on the mouth of that new born river that has to run through the center of our hearts to find its way home. ~ Andrea Gibson

While the darkness of the interior concealed her body, the streetlight behind them illuminated the pale oval of her face, gilding her cheeks in shades of amber and ghostly blue. The effect was . . . arresting. Vermeer had used natural light to paint women in this way, faces emerging from the shadows, forcing the viewer's eye to focus on what was most important: the look of grace. The mouth firmed in determination. The eyes poised to behold a revelation. ~ Meredith Duran

When you walk, try to think nothing! You can then obtain the silence of a streetlight or a bridge; stop thinking; after that, you become all you see! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

To speak in a flat voice
Is all that I can do.
I have gone every place
Asking for you.
Wondering where to turn
And how the search would end
And the last streetlight spin
Above me blind.

Then I returned rebuffed
And saw under the sun
The race not to the swift
Nor the battle won.
Liston dives in the tank,
Lord, in Lewiston, Maine,
And Ernie Doty's drunk
In hell again.

And Jenny, oh my Jenny
Whom I love, rhyme be damned,
Has broken her spare beauty
In a whorehouse old.
She left her new baby
In a bus-station can,
And sprightly danced away
Through Jacksontown.

Which is a place I know,
One where I got picked up
A few shrunk years ago
By a good cop.
Believe it, Lord, or not.
Don't ask me who he was.
I speak of flat defeat
In a flat voice.

I have gone forward with
Some, a few lonely some.
They have fallen to death.
I die with them.
Lord, I have loved Thy cursed,
The beauty of Thy house:
Come down. Come down. Why dost
Thou hide thy face? ~ James Wright

And there was nothing left for me to do, but go.
Though the things of the world were strong with me still.
Such as, for example: a gaggle of children trudging through a side-blown December flurry; a friendly match-share beneath some collision-tilted streetlight; a frozen clock, bird-visited within its high tower; cold water from a tin jug; toweling off one's clinging shirt post–June rain.
Pearls, rags, buttons, rug-tuft, beer-froth.
Someone's kind wishes for you; someone remembering to write; someone noticing that you are not at all at ease. ~ George Saunders

Should we do this now?"
Pam gave an almost inaudible snort. She was smiling in the glow of the streetlight, suddenly exhilarated. "You waiting for an engraved invite?"
Lord save me from sarcastic vampires. ~ Charlaine Harris

You are reading while walking, she reads. You can't see your feet. The spread pages glide over the sidewalk, mottled by leaf shadows, by moonlight and streetlight. Over continents of shadow, continents of light. The book is a bird with white wings. You are a bird. Reading, you can fly.
You are flying now. ~ Joyelle McSweeney

I dispelled my invisibility for a few seconds in his full view, a finger resting provocatively on my lower lip, giving him a come-hither look under a streetlight. His jaw and the bottle of Żubrówka dropped at the same time. It shattered, drawing his eyes to the sidewalk, and I took the opportunity afforded by his distraction to disappear again.

"That was mean," Oberon said, watching the man look wildly around for me and pawing at his eyes as if to clear them.

Why? I asked. I've done him no harm.

"Yes, you have. You will haunt him for the rest of his life. I know from experience."

You're haunted by someone flashing you on a street corner?

"No. It was a dog park. Atticus and I were just arriving and she was leaving."

Oh, here we go.

"She was so fit and her coat was tightly curled and she had a perfect pouf on the end of her tail like a tennis ball. I saw her for maybe five seconds, until she hopped into a Honda and her human drove her away. And now I can't see a Honda without seeing her."

But that's a good thing, isn't it? Kind of romantic? A vision of perfection you can treasure forever, unspoiled by reality.

"Well, I don't know. In reality I'd like to try spoiling her, if she was in the mood."

Look, Oberon, that man is lonely. He's too skinny and sweaty, and I'm willing to bet you five cows that he's socially awkward or he wouldn't be staggering drunk at this hour. Bu ~ Kevin Hearne

From the cab stepped a tall old man. Black raincoat and hat and a battered valise. He paid the driver, then turned and stood motionless, staring at the house. The cab pulled away and rounded the corner of Thirty-sixty Street. Kinderman quickly pulled out to follow. As he turned the corner, he noticed that the tall old man hadn't moved but was standing under the streetlight glow, in mist, like a melancholy traveler frozen in time. ~ William Peter Blatty

When do they turn the streetlights on?
Does each streetlight have a separate switch?
Where did all the choo-choo trains go?
Why don't people just draw their own money?
Who decided that red means stop and green means go?
Is there only one moon?
Are all car honks the same?
How do the police stop trees from growing in the middle of the street?
Do people paint their own cars?
What is a fire hydrant?
Why don't people whistle when they walk?
Where do airplanes live when they are not flying? ~ Matthew Dicks

Velva's face glowed in the streetlight. "Sir Sun, don't you see? I am your violent violet. And you are mine. ~ Mav Skye

In the silence of the night, streetlights talk each other by touching their lights each other! ~ Mehmet Murat Ildan

Don't Stop Believing

Just a small town girl, livin' in a
lonely world
She took the midnight train goin' anywhere...
Just a city boy, born and raised in
South Detroit
He took the midnight train goin' anywhere...

A singer in a smoky room, the smell
of wine and cheap perfume
For a smile they can share the night
It goes on and on and on and on...

Strangers, waiting, up and down
the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlight people, living just to
find emotion
Hiding, somewhere in the night

Working hard to get my fill,
everybody wants a thrill
Payin' anything to roll the dice,
Just one more time
Some will win, some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on

Strangers, waiting, up and down
the boulevard
Their shadows searching in the night
Streetlight people, living just to
find emotion
Hiding, somewhere in the night

Don't stop believin'
Hold on to that feelin'
Streetlight people

Don't stop believin'
Hold on to that feelin'
Streetlight people

Don't stop believin'
Hold on to that feelin'
Streetlight people ~ Journey

The streetlight outside my house shines on tonight and I'm watching it like it could give me a vision. James ain't talked ever and he looks at that streetlight like it was a word and maybe like it was a verb. James wanted to streetlight me and make me bright and beautiful so all the moths and bats would circle me like I was the center of the world an held secrets. ~ Sherman Alexie

Night, street and streetlight, drugstore,
The purposeless, half-dim, drab light.
For all the use live on a quarter century –
Nothing will change. There's no way out.
–
You'll die – and start all over, live twice,
Everything repeats itself, just as it was:
Night, the canal's rippled icy surface,
The drugstore, the street, and streetlight. ~ Alexandr Blok

He took me down and out into the afterlife of the brightly lit streets, a haze of rain around each streetlight like a galaxy, the whole street a universe spread out like a banquet. ~ Michael Montoure

When he moves, a streetlight stabs him, and the words flow out like blood. ~ Markus Zusak

She looked at the strong hand holding hers. "Oh my goodness, what did you do?" Harper asked, eyebrows raised and mouth open as she studied the cuts and bruises.
"Had a conversation with a streetlight once you got into the cab," he said, pulling her closer to him.
"I'm sorry, Trent. I really am. If I blew you and me because of all this, I get it and I don't blame you. I'm done running. I'm done being scared. I'm done doubting whether you and your friends will help me if I need it. I am done with everything except being in love with you. I - "
Harper was flipped onto her back and underneath Trent in the blink of an eye.
"Say it again." His dark eyes were fierce as he held each side of her face in his big, safe hands.
"I'm sorry, I - "
"No." He cut her off. "Not that part. The 'I love you' part."
"I love you." Harper had barely gotten the words out of her mouth before Trent's lips descended on hers. Their mouths clashed together, banging teeth before soothing bitten lips with soft tongues.
Trent pulled away, taking a deep breath before staring deep into her eyes. Harper could feel his very soul merging with hers.
"I love you, Harper. Everything else is details. A lot of fucking details, granted, but just details. ~ Scarlett Cole

Coconut," I say. "You always smell coconut-y." Then, because it's dark in the van, and because I'm wiped out from all the panic and my guard is down, I add, "You always smell good."

"Sex Wax."

"What?" I sit up a little straighter.

He reaches down to the floorboard and tosses me what looks like a plastic-wrapped bar of soap. I hold it up to the window to see the label in the streetlight. "Mr. Zog's Sex Wax," I read.

"You rub it on the deck of your board," he explains. "For traction. You know, so you don't slip off while you're surfing." I sniff it. That's the stuff, all right.

"I bet your feet smell heavenly."

"You don't have a foot fetish thing, do you?" he asks, voice playful.

"I didn't before, but now? Who knows."

The tires of the van veer off the road onto the gravelly shoulder, and he cuts the wheel sharply to steer back onto the pavement. "Oops."

We chuckle, both embarrassed.

I toss the wax onto the floorboard. "Well, another mystery solved ~ Jenn Bennett

I pulled the loaded gun out of my coat, most people were the worst for wear with the drink, although I was well known and easily recognised with the big scar down my face. Well, didn't I go and let both barrels off at the streetlight, it exploded into pieces and the front of the pub went into darkness. ~ Stephen Richards